


My World Would Be A Wonderland

by ohgoodnesswhatdo



Category: Hannibal (TV), Twittibal
Genre: Blood Drinking, Cannibalism, Kind of a songfic, Multiple Victims, Murder, Obsession, Restraint, Rituals, Sacrifice, blood sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:33:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgoodnesswhatdo/pseuds/ohgoodnesswhatdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{Twittibal!}<br/>Bentley Lecter(OC)/Miriam Lass</p><p>"I’d give anything to you but solitude…yet that’s all you keep asking for."</p>
            </blockquote>





	My World Would Be A Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> Bentley Lecter is my NBC Hannibal OC of Hannibal's car. Please find me on Twitter @ HanniVroom if you are interested in this character. He's not mean like I'm writing him here!  
> This is my first solo for him. I hope it isn't too terrible. I try to be very thorough with my grammar and such, but for prose purposes, there are bits of technically-incorrect grammar. Those are intentional. :)

Bentley ducked down behind a brick wall of a parking lot, keeping to the shadows. His eyes were bright, grey-gold orbs scanning his surroundings. It was an old parking lot. The paint was fading; people assumed parking spaces now. Surprisingly enough, humans could park fairly well in reference to a previous, considerate driver, even if the concrete was crumbling and giving way to deep-rooted weeds.

What a thing to be called, a /weed/. What difference does it have compared to another plant? That it grows wildly? That its flowers are still small and inferior? That its leaves are shaped differently? Weeds are the strongest type of plant; unforgiving to the weak, dominating everything in their path. They will always come back as Mother Nature’s embrace, to claim the manmade for their own, for Earth.

There were no cameras in this natural battlefield, since the business it was meant to provide for was abandoned. A tall, empty, shell of a building was left. A tattered lease banner hanging on the second floor, or what was left of it, limped in the wind. Windows were fogged with dirt and dust. He kept his supplies inside; ropes, duct tape, knives, flashlight, trash bags, towels, peroxide.

The cars there were parked for the bar across the street. If they made it to the parking lot, Bentley would take them, into the building, slaughter them, come back and do it again until his heart stopped aching.

_I fear it will never stop._

He waited for what seemed like hours, but he knew that wasn’t true. The moon was unmoving while he waited.

Sure enough, a man stumbled out, medium-built, wearing a sweat-stained white t-shirt and jeans too baggy for his hips. Had he been sober, he would still be tripping over his own feet.

Somehow, he made it across the street and in Bentley’s range, fumbling with his keys and muttering to himself. Bentley tackled him down, clamping a hand over the man’s mouth and other hand holding the man’s arms down behind his sweaty back. The man’s eyes were wide and he screamed under his hand. Bentley just pressed the man’s nostrils together until he went limp.

“There you go...just relax.”

Bentley carried the man over his shoulder to the building and tied him up, tight, tight, tighter. Around the legs, around the arms, keeping the body exposed.

_My heart clenches when you speak to me, when you look into my eyes, when your skin touches mine._

He wrapped the man’s mouth shut with the tape, holding a flashlight in his teeth to he could see the man’s nose. Can’t cover that up now.

_You left me breathless countless times. You still do, even when you glare at me._

Bentley smacked the man awake. “Wake up.” He demanded, and the man struggled under the ropes, and began to sob.

Bentley smiled.

He picked up a knife out of his bag, a good medium-sized knife, for a good, medium-sized man. He grabbed the man by the back of the head, pulling him close. “I wish tears could fix things. They don’t.” Bentley murmured into his ear, earning him a sob.

Bentley flipped him over onto his back again and straddled him, quiet atop the frantically crying, intoxicated man under him. His smile grew wider, his heart beat faster, oh, the sound of the heart pumping adrenaline before the first kiss or kill just as satisfying than the roar of an engine on miles of an empty, straight road!

He pierced the man’s chest with his knife, and the man convulsed under him, screaming under the tape. The blade hit bone, so he pulled it out and went in again, blood splattering on his face and arms. Even in his eye! The human body was filled with so many liquids, so many mysteries that books could never teach him! The blood of a stranger, in his eye! Blinding him, albeit only for a moment, the human body has a defense when it is restrained! Another killer may have given up once blinded, but Bentley continued, pulling out and stabbing again, in the same place, breathing ragged, strength nowhere near diminishing. His stamina would serve him well tonight.

The blade broke through the bone, and Bentley nearly moaned in ecstasy once it sunk in past the off-white bone barrier cage and into the murky tangle of tissue and muscle. The jolt of the man surged electricity through Bentley’s legs, his side, his arms, his chest, his neck, his ears, his eyes.

He let out a heavy breath, not realizing that he had taken one in.

“Let’s take out your heart..”

_Carve it out, rip it out, eat it. Eat my heart, consume it. Make me yours. I’d give anything to you but solitude…yet that’s all you keep asking for._

Bentley tilted the knife back and forth, wiggling it between the broken bone pieces until it snapped more, enough for him to reach under the rib and fondle the heart.

“Oh, don’t stop writhing on my account.” Bentley reminded his victim with a polite grin, who was going into a state of shock, losing blood.

Bentley stroked his thumb against the sporadically beating heart.

_If I could touch your heart this intimately, how much would I learn about you?_

Bentley pressed his ear to the bloody chest, this time not in grief, but in curiosity.

He pulled the heart out, slowly, stretching every vein, tendon, fiber, and artery with his strength. There was one snap..then two..then three. He stopped counting, lost count.

He could hear it, he could hear it! Was it his? What is the man’s? Is it hers?

_This is all I hear in my ears when we touch._

B-Bmp-B-Bmp-B-Bmp-B-Bmp…

Oh, it’s so lovely.

Bentley sat up with the heart in his hand. It pumped blood down his arm, hundreds of microscopic pieces separating both lines of blood, but one slice of his wrist and they would run together.

_How much more do I have to hurt before we’re together?_

He lifted the still-beating heart to his mouth and kissed it, bloodying his lips. It was so warm, almost as warm as her.

_You’re the cure to long winter days._

He then lifted it above his head, a sacrifice to his Aphrodite.

_This is a human heart._

_This is what hurts me._

_This is what made me._

_This is what you hurt the most._

He squeezed the organ in his hand and opened his mouth to the life pouring from it. The metallic taste was comforting to him, from metal to metal he was born and would die. It dripped down his chin, onto his nose, his cheeks, his neck. He bathed in the short-lived shower, unashamed by his selfish passion for her. All for her, because of her, people would die.

He dropped the drained organ onto the chest like a popped grape into the trash.

_It still hurts, my dear. I will have to do it again; I will sacrifice for you until you can make it stop hurting._

He untied the man and stood up.

 --

Bentley cleaned himself off, for the most part. The main concern was dripping evidence.

He waited outside again.

This time, an older, heavier man had his turn with Bentley’s knife.

And Bentley sang to the victims now.

_“Cats and rabbits, would reside in fancy little houses~!”_

His heart pumped harder, straining with clogged arteries.

_“And they’d dress in shoes and hats and trousers, in a world of my own~!”_

It tasted different.

The next was a not-so-young woman clad in five types of animal print.

_“All the flowers, would have very extra special powers~”_

She smelled of smoke.

 _“They could sit and talk to me for hours~!”_ Her blood was thin.

_My stomach turns when you give me that look..please…_

Bentley began laying his victims in a neat row, shoulder to shoulder.

_“When I’m lonely in a world of my own..”_

They all screamed.

They all fought as hard as they could.

He drank their hearts to his heart’s content, yet it ached still.

_I don’t want to kill people for you any more…but it hurts, it hurts._

Bentley felt himself near tears at the sixth victim. She looked a little like her. Pillowy lips, big eyes, beautiful hair. This one was a sign to stop, before the real one was hurt.

_I can’t stop until you’re at the end. Until you make the pain go away for me, others will feel it._

_Don’t let them die._

_Make my chest stop aching._

Prolonged gazing at her hurt so terribly that he stopped and sank to his knees in front of her. He cried into her stomach, tears mixing with the blood. He sobbed and sobbed and cried. His throat tightened, his saliva thickened, his lashes were dark and wet, his cheeks and nose were pink from blood inside and out.

He calmed down after an hour of crying and apologizing to this girl’s corpse.

He smiled.

No, no, this wasn’t so bad. All he had to do was smile about it. She was beautiful, even in death. Her blood was laced with alcohol, but damn, it was sweet! And she looked so much like her, oh, God, it wasn’t fair that the real one wasn’t there to pillow him in this change.

Bentley sat up and looked at the deflated hearts on the bodies, feeling his chest and stomach empty with desire.

That ache wasn’t heartache.

It was _hunger_.

\--

Bentley continued his stalking and attacking, starting up again with a woman that put up a very good fight before Bentley used his unnatural strength to take her down.

 _“There’d be new birds, lots of nice and friendly howdy-doo birds~”_ he sang into her ear as he stabbed her.

Her blood gave him her strength, not that he needed it. Oh, but it felt so amazing, empowered by one human being.

_You are a goddess, mute before me, empowering me even when I curse you._

_“Everyone would own a dozen blue birds~”_

Bentley closed his eyes and drank straight from the muscle, sinking his teeth into it with a satisfied moan. He gulped it down, swallowing every bit he could. There was red between his teeth, and he still sang, stronger now, even with blood dripping out of the corners of his mouth.

_“Within that world of my own…”_

Five more victims he took before the ache in his chest dulled and his stomach settled with raw human meat and their respective blood mixing in his acids. He stood above them and made sure that he drank and ate all of their hearts completely.

 _“No more trouble, for the greatest problems would be things a child could understand~”_ he stroked the doppelganger’s cheek before kissing her icy, bloody lips.

_Just as cold as you, my dear._

_Oh, you know I don’t mean that._

_No one is as cold-hearted as you._

He cleaned off his dripping clothes and left the bodies. No one could find his DNA. If they did, it wouldn’t be human.

Bentley picked up his things, taking a last glance at the lookalike and then his row of sacrifices, before he closed the door behind him to head home. He nearly skipped home, his body no longer hurting. He kept to the shadows, knowing Baltimore’s streets very well through experience.

He came home and stripped off his clothes, then stepped into his bathroom to turn on a hot shower.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His pupils were nearly touching the edge of the gold rim of his irises. His face was cold, his hair lost its style in his bloodlust.

He smiled at himself. The change was good.

_I’m stronger now. Do you love me yet?_

_I hope you like my sacrifices, love. I will kill again and again as long as it pleases you. As long as you don’t stop looking at me._

He stepped into the shower and gleefully watched the water running off of his body turn pink. He put shampoo in his thick hair and closed his eyes, singing.

 

_“And if somehow, things could be that way, my little world would be a wonderland~!”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
